


Mail Call

by DixieDale



Series: The Life and Times of One Peter Newkirk [31]
Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Hogan's Heroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-14 20:57:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14777118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: Back at Stalag 13, mail call had been a highlight of their existence, delivered courtesy of the Red Cross (if the war didn't interfere), sometimes bringing good news, sometimes bad, but still, a way to keep in touch with those far away.  Now, the mail came by plane, delivered by whichever of the Clan pilots were headed this way, but it was no less momentous, still a mixture of good news, bad news, and things in-between.  The latest batch of letters has Caeide offering to take on a new role; oh, and Coura is back writing to Andrew, with the results just as explosive as before!





	Mail Call

The letters came in all at once, of course, along with the small supply run flown by Ian once a month. The bigger supply shipments came in by rail and not so frequently, but the mail, at least once a month for the pass-throughs, and more often if they had told the Clan they were expecting something special, or even just if one of the pilots was passing through or even close to both points on the same route and decided to do something extra nice in exchange for one of Maudie's fine dinners.

Caeide sorted them out and when the family gathered for tea, announced "mail came in today," she handed the stacks around, and the expressions were pleased, for the most part. Andrew alone looked apprehensive; this was the first mail call for him since his arrival. After opening his packet, glancing at the return addresses, he shuffled them back into a stack and laid them back down on the table, keeping out only three.

"Andrew?" she asked him.

He looked at her, licked his lips and said, "I guess it makes me a coward, but I don't know if I WANT to read some of these. The ones from Kinch and Louie, well, sure, and the one from Coura, but . . ." He looked at her, and her heart ached at the misery in his face.

"But what, luv?" Peter asked, his voice low and gentle.

"Well, the ones from my cousins; I don't know what they would want and I don't know that I want to know, if you know what I mean. There's some others I don't even know why I'd get them, and they look all official and I don't like that, I guess; I've never had anything really good come from getting stuff like that," and they all laughed in agreement. "There's a couple, I don't recognize the names at all," he said, puzzled.

"And I heard from the Colonel, I mean, the General, and I really don't know if I want to hear what he has to say. Mr. Perkins, I don't know why he'd be writing me in the first place; there's no reason and I left the room in good shape and let him have that last paycheck to cover anything he might think I owed him for not giving him notice, and . . ." His brown eyes were big, and sad, and bruised, and just a little bit scared, and all of them there at the table wanted to reach out and hurt anyone who could bring such an expression to this young man they'd come to love so much. 

Caeide laid her hand over his. This man was not a coward, she knew that to her depths, but he'd been hurt so many times, in so many ways, and while some hurt was just a part of living, there was no need for him to be hurt any more, not from carelessness or malice.

"Andrew, it might be an imposition, and I understand if you say No, but . . . ". she paused, took a breath, "would you like ME to read them first, like I was your secretary, you know? Trash the things that you don't need to see, give you a synopsis of the things you DO need to KNOW about but don't really need to read the whole thing, go ahead and deal with what I can and tell you about it later, and just hand you the ones you really NEED to deal with yourself. I could, if you'd want me to, or maybe Peter, or Maude or Mari if you would feel better about it."

He looked at her, {"she means it, she'd really do that for me?"}

"You wouldn't think it was really bad of me to do that?" he did have to ask.

She gave a tiny hmmppphhh, "Andrew, we all have people and situations we don't want to deal with. Sometimes, we can't avoid it, for whatever reasons. But sometimes, we just don't NEED to deal with them, there's no good reason to HAVE to. Calvis, that supplier from Cardith, he grates on my nerves unbearably, but he provides good seed, IF you are willing to keep on top of him and make sure he doesn't try to pull a fast one. I just don't have the patience to deal with his tricks; I was ready to dump the whole relationship, do business elsewhere, but, well, Peter deals with him now, so I don't have to get myself all wound up or shift to someone else with an inferior product just to avoid him. And he doesn't TRY his tricks with Peter! It's the same with Lukens, at Bransdon Enclave, where we get the herbs we can't grow here; Maude handles those dealings because I would probably fly there and strangle him if I had to fuss with him! And I don't CARE that he's brother-in-law to one of the Family; frankly I think I'd be doing her a favor; I can't imagine she finds him much joy! I would, any of us would, be pleased and willing to help weed out the nonsense, so to speak," she reassured him, looking around to note that everyone felt the same.

"And, Andrew, if you ever decide there's someone you simply don't want to deal with anymore at all, don't want to let them have access to you even by letter, that can be done too. All we have to do is cancel that pass through address and give you a new one; one you can decide who gets it, and for the rest, 'poof' you simply are gone!"

He looked at her, {"she really means it!"} and a smile came to his face; somehow, she, and Peter and the others, they made him feel so . . . well, he wasn't sure what, but it felt good, and it felt right, and it wasn't something he'd experienced before that he could remember, and he liked it even if he didn't know the right word.

"Then, yes, please. Something you think I need to know about, you let me know." He frowned, "whether it's good or bad, though, Caeide; I'm not asking you to, to," remembering Hogan's words, "to treat me like I'm a child."

She nodded, remembering those words all too well; "Certainly, not like a child! In this, I work for you, you being the boss," she said, and he gave a huge grin. "As I understand my job duties, I need to read any incoming correspondence, like any good secretary, eliminate the trash, brief you on the important stuff that I can brief you on, deal with what needs to be dealt with but not necessarily by you, just let you know afterwards, and hand you the things you really HAVE to deal with, would WANT to deal with yourself, right?" and he grinned in relief, and nodded to her.

Peter looked at her, intrigued, "I just might 'ave to take you up on that service myself," he said, thinking of some of the correspondence he'd received via the pass-through, and as he rather thought might happen, Andrew brightened, the idea of Peter doing the same thing making what Andrew did not nearly so, well, cowardly, since the idea of Peter doing ANYTHING cowardly was just laughable to Andrew's mind, no matter how much he'd claimed to be one, back in camp.

"Just let me know, Peter, I'd be glad to," she smiled at them both, all the love in her shining through. "The question is, Andrew, is whether you want me to, give me permission to, discuss any of what I read with Peter or the others, if I feel I need to, have them READ a letter, if I think I need that second opinion. That, you have to tell me; I won't unless you say it's okay."

He thought about it. {"They're my family now, I trust them, I trust HER,"} and he nodded, "yes, whatever you think you need to do," and it was agreed.

This would be an unpleasant task in some ways, she was sure of that, but if he, if they wanted this, if they trusted her to do this, then she was willing; they all dealt with unpleasant tasks, often one taking on a task they didn't mind, or at least didn't mind so very much, for one of the others to whom it was really a burden, something to be avoided if at all possible. It all evened out in the long run, she thought. The other two women looked at each other, not really understanding, and Andrew saw that.

"You see, my cousins, they tried to take over my life when I came back, and I think, well, I'm pretty sure they took stuff they shouldn't have when my Mom died, and I KNOW they'd try to cause trouble for me, make me leave here if they could." He frowned, "I've never understood why, I don't know what they gain from it, I mean, after they got what they wanted from the house and the land and what little was in the bank. And I know it sounds silly, I mean I'm a grown man and all, but I was away all those years, and when I got back, everything was gone, the house, any money, Mom and my cousin I was best friends with, and there was no family left except them, and they, they have the power back home cause of who they were and who they married and all. It's not easy fighting that, not in a town like where I lived, not when you don't have anyone left to fight with you," and he looked at them, sadness and resignation showing in his face. Their faces reassured him now, only love and caring showing, no condemnation of what he was asking.

"Andrew, lad, let Caeide deal with them, and the rest as well; she'll not steer you wrong, least she's never done so with us, and she has a right sure way of dealing with those who think to make themselves a nuisance!" came the brisk advice from Maude, accompanied by a gentle hand to his shoulder.

Marisol snorted with amusement, remembering how Caeide had dealt with some of the locals who had thought to take exception to Peter's presence, "that she truly does, Andrew, just leave it to her!"

And so, she took his stack of letters up to the office along with her own, and sat, and sorted, and read. As she read, she thought about what Andrew had said, "I've never understood why, I don't know what they gain from it." Something about that statement nagged at her. Soon, Peter, occupied in the library, heard a snarl, and then the clink as she got down a glass and the decanter of bourbon from her room, pouring herself a glass before she settled back down at the table. He wandered over to the door, leaning up against the door frame.

"Problems, luv?"

She gave him a rueful smile, "just wishing I could reach out and pop a couple of people upside the head, and maybe one or two more I'd like to roast over a slow fire!" and his eyebrows made a speedy movement toward the ceiling.

"That good, is it?" he commented.

"One cousin has 'discovered' additional bills from Andrew's mother's illness and final expenses and wants a money order sent 'immediately'! All worded to draw out every possible pang of guilt on his part for not being there to take care of her, himself! No matter that he was in the camp, nor the job he was doing, all as if Andrew was jaunting around, attending parties, having himself a gay old time. And she's asking for a not inconsiderable sum, mind you! As if we hadn't already ascertained that the money from the sale of the house and the consignment of the contents didn't FAR exceed those expenses!"

"Another cousin, a little more in the know but obviously no brighter, has received the legal notice reclaiming the difference, and is trying to weasel out of repayment, saying 'pain and suffering' accounted for the rest, HIS pain and suffering, mind you, at having to deal with that 'burdensome responsibility', not Andrew's or his mother's! He is also hinting that Andrew shouldn't be in charge of that or any other money, because he's, and I quote, 'not quite competent, just not quite right!' I'll be referring copies of those to our legal people who are already working on the cousin issue. I want them to put the brakes on that 'not quite right' talk, too, make sure they can't try anything to get control."

She frowned, looked up at him, "Peter, I have to wonder; Andrew had a good point, about them having nothing more to gain. Why then would they want to have control over Andrew? They care nothing for his welfare, it's certainly not out of the goodness of their hearts, they have to know he is quite competent, I mean, really! You get to be his rank in the military by NOT being competent? He is quite intelligent, quite capable, they have to know that! You have to wonder if they have some pet doctor somewhere waiting to say otherwise. What do they have to gain??"

She paused, "you know, I think I'll have some of people look into that as well. I wonder if there is some asset, some potential asset they have their eyes on? One they could benefit from ONLY if they have a leash on Andrew?"

Peter was now the one frowning, "now there's a thought! I'll 'ave a word with Andrew, see if 'e can think of anything, shall I?"

She nodded, then shook her head as if to clear it, taking another sip of the drink she'd poured. Peter looked at her, at the letters on the desk, and decided she had the right idea; he walked into her room and helped himself to a stiff drink as well.

Settling himself down in the chair in front of the desk, he asked, "anything else?"

"Some things he WILL need to deal with, or at least decide on HOW to deal with. He has back pay that showed up from the military, supposedly; he'll have to decide if he wants to claim that, let us set up a route to an account, provided it is legitimate and not a con of some kind, knowing that route is a way to trace him, or whether he's willing to let that go, to keep that extra layer of protection between him and the outside world. Same for the rest of the legal and military do-si-do, holdover life insurance, acknowledgement of possible re-call, all that. I think I'll ask one of the Clan lawyers to sit down with him, let him know what is possible, what the dangers and benefits to the various possibilities are; he's the one to make the decisions, but I want him to know all that's involved. Perhaps Shjean, he's very good and very knowledgeable, has dealt with the American military before. He's the one we had prepped and ready to deal with any complications for Garrison and his crew, and he's more twists and turns in his mind than any I've known! Well, except for Marya, of course!"

She laughed, "there are a few people he's helped disappear for good, though none for the wrong reasons, of course, and more that can be reached only through so many layers that no one has ever made it through the last bit unless their intentions are good and that person is willing. And that MIGHT just be the best way for Andrew, though that's a big step that requires a lot of thought."

"And??"

"Oh, there's a rather nice one from a Mr. Ortiz, not asking for anything, and isn't that nice for a change, but just saying how much he appreciated everything Andrew and his mother and father did for him and his family over the years, seemingly they were most kind and helpful, and wanted to let him know he went by the cemetery to visit his wife and son, and the new headstone is in place for Andrew's mother and looks very nice indeed, and seeing it, Andrew came to his mind. He reminisces a bit about when Andrew was a lad, playing with his own son, mischief they got up to, good times they had, that sort of thing. That one, I think Andrew would be glad to get."

"Mr Perkins, just a rather stiff 'the apartment was in satisfactory shape, I wish you well' sort of thing, but nothing bad. The others, I'll deal with, like any good secretary."

Peter laughed gently, "I'm not sure a 'good secretary' should be using the sort of language I'm feeling you are intending in your replies to those cousins!" and she pokered up at him, full of mock dignity.

"I'll have you know a good secretary can find the right words for ANY occasion," and he laughed with her.

She frowned, "but this one, the one from Hogan . . . It's . . ." and the look in her eye was so distressed that he leaned forward, his own frown deeply on his face, "what, luv?"

"Peter, maybe it's just me, but I'm thinking maybe we need to change the mail code just to keep his letters from getting here, but I'm worried that might blind us to any mischief he has in mind, though that is a word too mild for what I fear he might get up to. I don't know whether it would be better for him to think they're not getting through, or to think they are getting through but being ignored."

Peter frowned even more severely, "what, Caeide?" She looked at him, then silently held out the letter to him. She watched as he read, and listened as he started to curse, long and fervently.

"Bloody minded bastard!" He paced, finished the rest of his drink in one long swallow. Finally, "we need to talk with Andrew, maybe the others. Talk to the Clan, too, and that Shjean you mentioned. Find out 'ow 'e could touch us, find us, what power 'e would think to 'ave over us, in any way possible; what we can do to block him. 'e's got friends, Caeide, you know that; 'e's some powerful."

He looked at her, furious, frightened, more for Andrew's sake than his own, frightened as well for Caeide and all she'd built here.

She nodded, "yes, he does, yes, he is, but Peter, love," and her face was quiet, determined, full of resolve, "so does, so is, the Clan, and Peter, remember, we have no great liking or great tolerance for Ravens, in any form."

He inhaled deeply, knowing what she was saying, remembering the fate of the Ravens who'd hurt him, threatened him and his friends. He looked down at the letter in his hand, looked up at her, choosing, making his decision, "whatever it takes, Caeide luv, whatever it takes! I won't let 'im 'urt Andrew, or let 'im use the threat of 'urting 'im to force us into doing something we don't want to do," receiving a nod, a promise in return.

"Have I ever taken you up on the far hillside, Peter? I think I should, perhaps tomorrow; perhaps it will give you some comfort, to know there is ALWAYS a resolution should things turn to their worst, though we'll hope it doesn't come to that. And we'll talk about the other possibilities once the Clan and Shjean have gone over things. Love, Andrew is family to us; we'll not allow him to be hurt, not if we can help it, I swear that, nor allow him to be taken from us against his will," and he knew, and he breathed deeply, and tried to ease the ache inside.

He stood there, remembering - remembering the brave and ingenious leader who'd pulled their team together, dragged them out of the depths of despair and led them to such victories, remembering the passionate lover, remembering that smiling, witty person he held in such respect; contrasting that with the remembering of the man who controlled with an iron hand, who could use just a word or a look to hurt, to bring someone back into line, the man who felt he was the only one smart enough to decide on their course of action, the one who held hard grudges and was capable of such petty acts of revenge, the one who needed to manipulate everyone around him even more than he needed to breathe.

It helped when she moved close, laying one hand on his chest, and he pulled her in to lean against him, nothing more, just holding each other.

She and Peter turned the 'secretarial report' into a thing so mixed with humor that Andrew was able to take the less than stellar news with some degree of comfort. Something about her pulling those old reading glasses of Kathleen's down low on her nose, her peering over the top of them, her hair drawn into an oldfashioned chignon on the top of her head, wearing that ancient shirtwaist and long bustled skirt that came from the young Kathleen's stint as a secretary in the city, her pursed lips and prissy voice just brought a level of farce to the whole operation.

"Well, Mr Carter, we had two pieces of correspondence from your cousins; it would appear, Sir, that they are somewhat full of shit, if I might be so bold as to offer my opinion," with a very prim simper, her demeanor in such contrast to her precisely pronounced use of the word 'shit' as to bring them all to chuckles.

"I have referred both to our attorney for his attentions; he already has files on both of them, and will respond appropriately. There is also a letter of well wishes from your former employer, Mr. Perkins, and a release from any further obligation, not that you had any further obligations, of course, and rather a waste of paper and a stamp, to my way of thinking, for he says nothing else, but I suppose we must give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he meant well," with a very dubious though lady-like little snort.

She held up the letter from Mr. Ortiz, "I rather think you'll like to read this one, it's rather pleasant, provided of course you actually know a Mr. Ortiz? If not, I'll return it as Undeliverable," but his surprised and pleased face told her that indeed he did remember, and she handed that one over with a smile.

"Now, as for the official letters, military, veterans affairs, and such, I took the liberty of referring those to our legal experts, especially my second cousin, Shjean, asking them to give us a formal report of all aspects, options, possible procedures, and I'd strongly advise we let them gather what they can before we even think on them, shall we?" And although he'd started with concern in his face, he quickly realized the wisdom of her suggestion, and nodded his agreement. 

She paused, and sighed, leaned back, pulled off the glasses, and dropped the act.

"Andrew, the letter from Hogan, that we have to talk about. He's trying his monkey business again, and while we don't intend that he be successful with any of it, either in this," waving the letter gently in the air, "or in anything else he comes up with, you do need to know about it."

She could see him brace himself, and she gave him a reassuring smile, "remember, yes, he is Hogan, but he is just Hogan; WE are CLAN!" and the sheer arrogance of that statement, the look on her face, drew grins and a couple of outright laughs from the others. She laughed along with them, knowing full well how that sounded, but assured them, "we protect our own, and" now solemn again, with an inherent promise, "there are no limits to which we will do in order to do that, Andrew love."

And he too remembered the Ravens.

"And no mistake, you are OUR OWN, we have Claimed you for our own, you are family, for just as long as YOU choose to be!"

He drew a deep breath, "Okay, what does it say?"

"Well, to give it pretty much in bullet points, though it rather rambles and contradicts itself in spots, like he wrote it in several sessions and failed to read what he'd put down previously" she said, "he's sorry he didn't get to spend more time with you when he was here," that garnered a snort from Andrew and Peter!

"He understands you were given an invitation to move to Haven, but he truly doesn't think that's a good idea because, ahem - you'd miss the companionship of your friends and family, especially since it's such a middle of nowhere place; he rather fears the ladies are a bit controlling" with an arch look over at Maude and Marisol, both of whom had their OWN memories of Hogan, "they are obviously trying to take advantage of you, put you to work as a farm hand, when you have such important talents that could be put to good use in the world; you will be lonesome when Peter leaves, which will be in the very near future (though he doesn't say how he knows THAT!); that he would be pleased to offer you a place on his team, working right along with Peter, a place you can continue the important work you were doing; that he is sure the military would require you to make yourself available for re-call, and that means staying in your home town unless it's on special assignment with HIM; that he will put it all in place and get back to you with the details, travel arrangements, etcetera. It's rather obvious from the letter that he doesn't know yet, or he didn't when he wrote this, that you've already moved to Haven. The envelope is still addressed to your home town, forwarded through the pass-along address."

She looked up at the incredulous looks on the faces surrounding her.

"He can't MAKE us go with him, CAN he??" Andrew asked, not so much frightened as offended now, and starting to get a bit angry.

"No, Andrew, he can't; as for that 're-call' nonsense, well, our people will have ways and ways again to get around any of that foolishness should anybody try! And as for not being able to move away from your home town, oh really, how would he expect anyone to belive that??!"

Peter drew in a deep breath, "well, that fits in part and parcel with my letter from him," getting a few raised eyebrows. Privacy was important here at Haven; accordingly when mail came, letters had already been separated and banded together, and wrapped by the Clan processing center; no one so much as glanced at, or tried to glance at what belonged to the others. Caeide hadn't known he'd received a letter from Hogan, and now had to admit to an overwhelming curiosity.

"What, Peter, he's promising you the moon, or only Manhattan, or has he something else in mind?" she asked with a gentle laugh, letting him know he only had to avoid the question if he choose to do so and she'd drop the issue immediately.

With a snort and a rather awkward shrug, "similar to what Andrew got - sorry things did not go smoothly, though perhaps 'e should have expected it in this environment with no real privacy, where any attempt at a real conversation is bound to be interupted by someone, on some pretext or the other. Suggested we meet somewhere we can talk more freely, exchange our thoughts more clearly; suggests 'e could send transportation, asks me to provide coordinates, directions, whatever for 'aven, which 'e should 'ave anyway, just-in-case, for my own safety, you understand!. 'E's sorry 'e lost 'is temper, 'e just 'ated to see me 'ave my feelings of gratitude and past friendship so taken advantage of. Oh, that 'e's rather afraid my old friends Maude and Marisol are joining with Caeide to keep me 'ere, just so they, 'aving no real ''purpose' anymore," casting his eyes over to the two very vital women who shared this home and helped make it a success, giving them a wry grin, which they returned in full measure, "can relieve the old days that are long past; that 'e is sure the notion of inviting Andrew to stay was put in my mind by them, to aid in that effort. Bemoans the fact that the other guys were so taken in, 'e'd have thought they 'ad enough experience to understand just what was going on, but e was sure they'd come around. Repeated the offer to join 'im and 'is team, saying, if you can believe it, that Andrew is giving it serious consideration, and 'e expects 'im to join 'im any day now, and 'e thinks the three of us would enjoy working together again. Oh, and 'e offers another bit about Andrew, that 'e understands Andrew was invited to come to 'aven, but 'e and I both know that would be a very bad idea, and surely the 'ladies' could afford to actually 'IRE a farm 'and! And a few bits more . . . " but those few bits he didn't share; the slight flush on his face gave them an idea, though.

He shook his head in disgust, "trying to play Andrew and me like a fiddle 'e is, and about as good at it THIS time round as old Klink was at playing that one of 'IS!" getting a snicker from Andrew, who knew what he was talking about.

Caeide laid it out there, "so, only question is, do we answer these bits of impertinence, or do we trash them, or just what?"

The consensus was that everyone would think on it, in the coming days, and talk again in a week's time. It wasn't something that had to be addressed today, and some clear thinking seemed to be what was called for.

When they met the next time, they decided on a simple, but rather elegant response. "Dear General. No, thank you. Sincerely,". It had a certain flair about it, and if it didn't have quite the ring of what she'd have liked to have sent, her notion almost as brief, only two words, well, everyone decided to hold off on that one, since it might be needed in the future. In fact, they were pretty sure it would be.

Andrew never mentioned what was in the letters from Kinch and LeBeau, though he seemed quietly happy with them, and tucked them into the small letter box in his room. However, at breakfast the following morning, he was more like the Andrew they knew, smiling and chattering, and general hilarity ensued when he sat down with a thump, looked around and grinned, focusing his attention on Peter.

"Hey, guys! I got a letter from Coura," and Peter gaped at him for a long minute, then sat back in his chair and roared with laughter. Naturally, the three women looked at each other in bewilderment, and at the two laughing men in amazement. Yes, they'd heard Andrew mention yesterday that a letter from Coura was in his packet, but why he'd announce it like that this morning, and why they were laughing so, well, that was a mystery.

After they had calmed down, Peter explained how Coura had written Andrew at camp all those times, how they'd looked forward to those letters, how that was how he'd announced each letter, same words, same expression, and how they'd all gathered around, even the German guard Schultz, to hear that little-girl 'voice' saying such adult and frequently outlandish things, and how it had brightened their lives and provided such amusement. He told of having to scrub the table, and once the floor, after something she'd said had led to a mass eruption of coffee from the mouths of the listeners, and how he'd almost swallowed a lighted cigarette at the same time. They chuckled, and Caeide made a mental note to again thank Coura for providing that bit of brightness for them, amidst all that monotonous and drab ugliness.

She'd asked her sister to be a conduit of information, and to be a friend to the young man who was such a friend to Peter and who had befriended her as well; that Coura had decided to be much more, that had been her own very kind inspiration, and Caeide would always be grateful. When he asked, they all were very quick to say that yes, they DID want to hear the letter, if he wanted to share. Somehow, it seemed like this was a tradition that should be continued!

Letter from Coura O'Donnell to Andrew Carter

Hi, Andrew!

I was so glad to hear from you that you decided to accept the invitation from Haven; I know you will love it there, and they are all so lucky to have you with them! It'll be good to have you with family, people who know and appreciate you for the really great person you are, and I'm looking forward to seeing you the next time I visit. I'm glad you took Charlie and Lucy with you too, and it's so neat that Estelle has taken such a shine to Charlie! Estelle has been such a blessing to our family, so it's nice that she has an extra special friend in her life now, well two, since I know you'll be her friend too; have Caeide tell you and the others the story about how Estelle rescued Rodney and Casino from those awful men!

Let Maudie feed you up; I don't want to see you so thin as when I saw you last time; I know she's been able to do that for Peter, at least some. I know the family always say they gain at least five pounds every time they visit, her cooking is so good!

Mari will tease you, I'm sure, she teases all of us, that's part of her way of showing her affection, but she'll be the one to put extra honey on your scone, or slip you a little extra treat once in a while out of her own stash. She favors lemon drops and chocolate cremes, so I hope you like those!

Peter has to be thrilled to have another guy there, especially a good friend like you; other than Reverend Miles and Elis the blacksmith, and maybe Davie Rhys, he's rather surrounded by women. I don't think he really minds that too much, but they do tend to spoil him a bit, so it'll be good for him to have to share their affections, I think. Though Douglas says they'll just stretch their hearts and give you BOTH that same love and affection, and now that I think on it, he's probably right. I think a warm heart can stretch just as much as it needs to, don't you? I know Caeide has been ever so fond of you ever since she met you, and has always said how awfully kind you were to her, and how good a friend you were to Peter, and that's as good a recommendation as you can get. 

If you need someone to talk to up there, other than the family, of course, and they are all good listeners, Reverend Miles would be a good bet. He is ever so kind, and smart and wise (not always the same thing, you know), and doesn't pass judgement on Clan or Clan ways, and he doesn't tattle to anyone, not even the family if you tell him something is private. I know he's listened to me and my secrets a lot, and I always felt safe talking to him. When I think on it, he's really become more family than not; he was and is a true blessing for Caeide for so many years when she was so alone up there, and Caeide said he's done so much for Peter, she'll never be able to thank him enough. 

When I come visit, I'll show you all my secret places up there, where I'd go to think, or pretend I was a pirate, or search for pretty rocks, or, oh, all sorts of things; I think there may be a few places even CAEIDE doesn't know about! Oh, and don't turn your back on Duggan! He's sneaky!

Now, Andrew, for the big announcement! -  
I'M AN AUNT! I'M AN AUNT! Yes, I know I'm repeating myself, but since I'm an aunt twice over, as of today, it seemed appropriate. Tell Caeide not to be hurt that they didn't call to tell her first, I made them promise to let me do it, through you as an official 'welcome to the family' gesture, and since the babies arrived today, and this letter should arrive there (Ian promised he'd be flying that way in the morning!) no later than tomorrow, it's not like we made her wait TOO long for the news!

First, Meghada and Rodney and Craig had a little boy, Randall Craig, about 4 am this morning. Gold blond hair and pretty green eyes, like Craig's, but his wide mouth and sweet smile all Rodney, and not quite five pounds, though at full term! No, don't ask me to explain all that, I wouldn't dare try! I'm not a Dragon, after all! Meghada just grins at Rodney and Craig, laughs and says, "don't ask me, I'm just his mother!"

She can't stop touching him, Rodney and Craig are in a mutual state of self-congratulatory shock, (they keep looking at him, each other, Meghada, and then do it all over again!, grinning like a pair of fools all the while), and Lynn and the guys are just as bad. I don't think they could be any prouder of little Randy if he was their own! I think holding him gave Lynn a bad case of baby fever; she's been looking at Actor with the most speculative expression all day. They are all busy holding him, laughing with each other, and making plans.

I had to laugh when I caught the guys arguing over who got first bat at teaching him stuff, and what would be most important to teach him first. Mind, he is less than a day old and Casino is talking about teaching him to blow a safe! Actor already has a list started of great literature and great art, great jewels, and, of course, great cons, starting with something called the 'Dumb John', all on the agenda. I caught Chief sketching a design for a tiny sheath and knife, and pulling down some of the books he'd learned to read from, as well as a copy of 'Chess For Beginners'.

Well, Meghada will put her foot down, I'm sure, as best she can, though I have no doubt Rodney will have him quite the expert at picking a pocket by the time he is two, and Craig out there with a stick and a bare spot of dirt showing him his directions, and explaining the difference between tactics and strategy! Eventually he'll spend time with all of you at Haven, learning all YOU and the others have to teach him. With all of them, and all of you having a hand in his education, I fully expect him to be something of a force to be reckoned with before long. 

I wasn't there for Reagana and James and Patrick's little girl being born, of course, them being quite a distance away, but that happened closer to Noon. Drema Kaileen, eight pounds, red hair (of course), brown eyes, but something of James in her smile, they say. James and Patrick are talking about her being the first female doctor in the family, and Reagana just laughs, saying anything's possible, but she seems to sense a Warrior, not a Healer, and that does seem more likely.

More babies are on the horizon, too! Cally has a tiny pooch of a tummy now, Marya's is a bit bigger, (LeBeau must be at least six inches taller, from sheer pride!) when I saw them a couple of weeks ago; Ciena has been doing a lot of porcelain hugging the past couple of weeks, and frankly the past two mornings I've developed the oddest craving for salt crisps! I called Mom for the recipe, and strange to say, she had it out on her counter since she was making a batch for herself. See, I told you they probably weren't finished! Do you think I should sit them down and explain what causes that??! I thought we had done that after the triplets arrived!

I must say, it's nice to be able to focus on such pleasant things for a change. Tell Caeide, yes, Kevin is being just as bossy as you'd expect, and no, we are NOT going to be confined to the house, or go on bed rest for the next several months, no matter how much he'd like us to! Can you imagine how he's going to be when the babies arrive??! Much less as they grow up!

You know, he never has really explained the reality of our little family to his sister Julie; it'll be interesting to see how he manages that and how she takes it. There's never been any real urgency to it before. We don't see each other; we live so far apart, so she doesn't see us, see the interaction, and he is possibly the worlds' worst letter writer, so it shouldn't be surprising. However, we've decided, Ciena and I, that if he tries to avoid the whole subject for much longer, we'll have to step in. She seems to grasp his 'involvement' with Ciena, but no more, and I do not intend to go through life with her thinking I'm Ciena's 'wayward little sister who keeps getting in the family way (again, and again, and again)', or think of me as a 'pitiful old maid', a hanger-on in the household, with all the babies being put to Ciena's account. And it's certainly better that she figure this all out before we BOTH have boys, a couple of months apart, with those silvery-grey eyes that are so prevalent in his family, you know! That's what the far-seer is saying, anyway. Poor Kevin! Well, no one ever said this would be without its complications.

By the way, we'd like your and Caeide's and Peter's permission, if you would, to use Caeiden for a name for one of ours, since we don't repeat mother names in the same line, so that's not one you'd be planning on using, unless you decide to break with tradition."

Startled, Peter shot a quick look at Caeide, whose eyes were a bit wider than usual, and they both looked at Andrew; relieved, they sat back, all that seemingly passing by without his realizing what Coura was assuming.

"Let me know if that would be okay with all of you. I'd give you permission to use 'Coura', but Douglas just gave a shudder, and said that would be just too scary, that he doesn't think the world could handle another Coura! I don't always understand my brother sometimes, you know! Anyway, Meghada just asked me if THEY could use Couran next time around, if it's a girl; she laughed and said a Couran seemed like a good partner for Randy, and Casino groaned! He just doesn't seem to appreciate me like he should, which is odd since Lynn says I'm very much like him in many ways; well, maybe that even explains it! Really, though, I thought it was supposed to be awhile after you have a baby before you start thinking about another one! Certainly more than the fourteen hours it's been for our dear sister!

I ran into the Big Brown Eagle our last trip into Washington, and frosty wasn't the word for his reaction when he saw me. He was in full dress uniform, escorting some R.B. all dressed in diamonds and sequins at a charity event, shmoozing and glad handing his way through all the dignitaries and celebrities. You could just see the schemes and calculations twisting and turning over in his mind.

I wanted to laugh, it was so funny, so typical; we met in a doorway and he was so very Hogan! Obviously he didn't know WHICH of us I was, but that didn't seem to matter much, he pretty much dislikes us equally, though I'm sure Caeide has the absolute top billing there, and he made a couple of typical nasty comments when Kevin came up from behind and repeated exactly those same words from the camp, remember.

"If you have a problem, General (though then it was Colonel, of course), I suggest you address it with me!" Have you ever seen an eagle gape?? I hadn't before, but it was similar to watching a turkey buzzard gape, and that I HAVE seen! It was the funniest expression; I really wish I'd had a camera! I managed to keep a straight face, but it was NOT easy.

He stiffened, turned and saw Kevin, and got much more polite, though not friendly, of course. It was obvious he remembered Kevin, was very curious, very suspicious why we were together, and we made sure to just breeze past his curiosity, to breeze past him, in fact; hopefully it annoyed him, that was certainly our intention.

We left soon thereafter, Kevin not liking such events any more than I do, us being there only as a favor to a friend who was getting an award and wanted to see a couple of familiar faces there along with all the political and social butterfies that frequent such events. UGHH!

I had to get a new dress for the occasion, and Caeide can tell you how I hate to get dressed up! Jeans and a shirt are much more to my liking, but Kevin refused to take me dressed like that, even though I told him I could get them made in some fancy material to match the ladies' dresses; I even offered to wear a tailored trouser suit made to match his, (silver grey to match those wonderful eyes of his, and very elegant and dashing he looked too), but he was determined to be conventional (yes, I know, that's my Kevin!). So I ended up getting a burgundy satin and lace dress, tea length, long lace sleeves and overskirt, and lace upper yoke, neckline just at the base of my throat, quite pretty in a rather prim and sedate fashion, (yes, that's me, prim and sedate, right??!), but the real appeal, the real reason I bought it is the burgundy 'under' that came with it, also burgundy lace and satin, not all that much of it, but just enough, in just the right places, if you know what I mean. It reminded me just a bit of my costume when I sang at the Parisian! I think it reminded Kevin of that too; I'm inclined to put my current craving for salt crisps down to that little burgundy number!

By now, the ladies were laughing as much as the guys.

"Aye, I can see how she'd have brightened your day, that one! Such a way with words! You can see the expressions, quite clearly, and you can see that dress and all else too," came from Maude, with an amused shake of his head.

Andrew frowned a bit, "do you really think he hasn't told his sister about them?" and Caeide burst out laughing.

"Oh, Andrew, our Kevin is" and was interrupted by both Andrew and Peter saying, in unison, "a bit conservative!" and her agreeing with a laugh.

Marisol gave a doubtful lift of her brows, "very conservative, ending up sharing a bed with both of your sisters! And both of them in the family way! Yes, most conservative, I can see that!" while Caeide tried to explain that she wasn't sure Kevin had actually INTENDED any that to happen, which only created more general hilarity and some slightly ribald comments from just about everyone about how such a mix up could possibly have happened. Caeide understood exactly how that had happend, but that was a very private thing, and painful, and not something she'd talk about easily.

Also, no one had commented on the assumptions Coura seemed to be making, and she thought that was probably a good thing, at least for now. She'd seen the fast look from Maude and Mari, and a speculative glance from Peter, but Andrew didn't seem to have picked up on what was being implied. But she remembered the faces on those children from her dream, and she smiled to herself, thinking Coura probably had the right of it. Well, time would tell; it wasn't something she was going to push for, but if fate intervened, she'd not protest too much. Andrew seemed to have tucked himself into her heart, right along side Peter, who had dwelt there for so long.

At a question from Andrew, Caeide explained that a R.B. was short for 'rich bitch'. Of course, about then Peter made the very casual suggestion that she might have Coura send up one of those dresses, or well, not so much the dress, but that little 'under' sounded most interesting; there was something about the look she gave him in return that promised something, but to his slight discomfort and slight feeling of apprehension, or was it anticipation, he wasn't quite sure what that promise might entail. Andrew just looked amused; Maude and Marisol rolled their eyes, wondering what shenanigans were in store for them now! The conversation ended in a total uproar, though, when she finally heaved a deep sigh and promised to write Coura and make the request, and then immediately turned to Peter and asked, "what size do you think you'd wear, dear?" And he grabbed the letter from Andrew and hit her on the top of the the head with it, to her continued burst of laughter, joined by the rest of them, of course. And when Andrew suggested burgundy really wasn't Peter's color, couldn't they get one in a nice red, 'like that waiter's jacket you wore at that party in Hammelburg, remember? That really brought out your eyes,' or maybe blue, 'Peter's always looked good in blue', well . . .

**  
Actually, she did have Coura send her one of those little burgundy 'unders', in her own size, and she thought Peter's eyes were going to fall out!

"And this is like the costume she wore to sing at the Parisian??!"

"According to her, and it seems about right from what I'd heard about the place, probably even a bit conservative for there," and that really did it! Now he HAD to see that act! A private performance, of course, just for him, and after some extended whining and pouting, he allowed Andrew to stay as well.

Well, she was pretty sure she wasn't quite as limber as Coura was, not anymore, but she did a quite creditable job of it, even without the chorus backup, what with the record Coura shipped her of the music, along with the choreography and outline (somehow she'd just known this was coming!) and he was ready to offer up fervent prayers of thanks that Hogan and the guys had never had a chance to see that film back in camp! Well, eventually, anyway - seems that little performance made that secondary in his goals for the afternoon! 

Well, I have to go, I have to leave soon, and I want one more session of cuddling with little Randy. He is such a dear, such a sweet, innocent expression on his face. Funny, it's the same one Rodney wears when he's up to some totally wicked bit of mischief. They are going to have fun with this one, I can tell! I think he and I might be kindred spirits, what do you think?

Til next time,

Coura


End file.
